Love Across the Ages
by AmyNW
Summary: In her parents' attic, and in the basement of a building he owns, Beth Bennet and Will Darcy make similar discoveries—and each one has an encounter with someone from the past. Can star-crossed lovers from the past change the fate of their descendants? Set in both present-day and Progressive-era Boston. Complete.
1. Beth

**Love Across the Ages**

 **Chapter 1: Beth**

Beth Bennet sighed as she entered her childhood home in Roxbury, Massachusetts, ready for another full day of cleaning and sorting. _Today won't be so bad,_ she reminded herself. Yesterday, as she boxed up photos, albums, and family heirlooms, she found herself frequently sobbing as she remembered both her parents, her mother who had died a few years' earlier, and her father, who had passed away this summer.

Today she had a slightly different task ahead of her: going through the many boxes in the attic, and determining which items there should be preserved, and which could be donated or discarded. The goal was to empty the house and prepare it for sale, and she was spending her winter break to make that possible.

It was a good time to get away from the stress and tension of work at Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington,* as well as to spend time with family. Furthermore, she had volunteered for this job. Although her older sister Janet lived the closest, in the Boston suburb of Brookline, her demanding job as a pediatrician at Mass General Hospital and family responsibilities with three young children kept her too busy to devote the time required to clean out Dad's home. Her younger sister Lynette had pleaded busyness as well due to her acting career in Los Angeles, even though outside of a few parts as extras, she spent a lot more time working at temp jobs than as an actress.

So the task was left to her. Intense emotions aside, Beth was happy to do it. She wanted to make sure the important memories from their family were preserved, and the attic task even held some excitement for her. As a junior professor of African-American history, she suspected that her family's attic held a trove of historical treasures. She had grown up hearing so much family lore about her distant ancestor who had run away from a South Carolina plantation in 1845, arriving in Boston. There, he was taken in by a free black family, who taught him to read and eventually allowed their daughter to marry him. He had taken the family's last name, Bennet, as his own, and had gone on to establish an abolitionist newsletter.

When Beth was a teenager, her father had unearthed a crate of documents in the attic written about and by this ancestor, and had donated them to the Museum of African American History in Beacon Hill. He had always said that he believed many more such gems remained, but prior to having a chance to explore them, he had had to become a caretaker for her mother who had MS, and then, after her death, was faced with his own cancer for several years before succumbing. Beth could think of no greater legacy for her parents than to discover the stories that remained in those dusty boxes and chests.

A few minutes after she climbed the attic stairs, her cell phone rang. It was Janet. "Hey girl," her sister said. "How's it look so far?"

"There is so much stuff up here…" Beth paused to sneeze. "And it's so dusty! My allergies are killing me right now."

"Well, take frequent breaks and wear a face mask if you have one. You're coming over for dinner tonight, right?"

"Of course! You know I wouldn't miss spending as much time with the kiddos as I can. When can I babysit?"

Janet laughed. "Whenever you want! But not tomorrow night. You're going out with Chase and me to MGH's winter fundraiser. Our nanny will watch the kids."

Beth groaned. "Are you trying to fix me up again?"

"Not fix you up exactly. Just introduce you to someone."

"Oh great, introduce me to someone who lives here in Boston, when I live all the way across the country."

"Hey, if you hit it off, he's rich. He can fly out to visit you whenever he wants. Anyway, he's a nice guy, he's gorgeous, and he's a good friend of Chase's."

Beth sighed. "You're not going to let me out of this, are you?"

"Nope!" Janet chuckled. "Even if nothing comes from it, you need to at least have some fun while you're here. This is a huge job you're doing right now, and I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, well, you know it means a lot to me to do it. Speaking of which, I need to get back to it."

"All right then. Love you, sis."

"Love you, too."

A few hours into her exploration, Beth knew she had found a goldmine—a journal from the years 1911-1912 written by her great-great-great aunt, whose name had also been Elizabeth Bennet. The original Beth Bennet (or Eliza, as it appeared she was called) was also a part of family lore, because she had been a suffragette. Beth's pulse quickened, realizing that she might have in her hands the foundation for her next academic research project. Calculating back, Beth determined that Eliza Bennet would have been about 20 or 21 when the journal was written. Were these her formative years, setting the stage for her to become the firebrand feminist she became? Beth knew that Eliza had never married, and wondered if the journal would reveal why. Had she ever fallen in love, but didn't want to conform to society's strictures for women at the time? Or perhaps she loved women instead of men, something society would have considered disgraceful back then. Or maybe romance wasn't part of her thinking at all, so devoted she was to the causes she espoused.

Taking the journal with her, Beth went downstairs to eat the soup and sandwich she had picked up at Panera Bread on the drive from her hotel to the house. Carefully turning the well-worn pages, she began to read. Within minutes she was laughing. As a young teacher, Eliza had certainly felt strong emotions about a man she called F. One such passage read:

 _"F means to frighten me by coming to my classroom each morning and staring at me, perhaps to convince me that my skills in pedagogy are inadequate. I will not be alarmed, though I am the most junior of teachers at this school. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me._

 _"Indeed, I refer to him as F in this diary rather than by his honorific, as my private means of rebellion. Jane would no doubt be shocked if she knew—and even more were she to discover that sometimes I enjoy his observations, for he is quite handsome to look at."_

In another passage, she wrote:

 _"Insufferable man! F claims to be of such a superior mind as to keep all his weaknesses and pride under good regulation. As if such a thing were possible for anyone claiming the mantle of human being!"_

Beth smiled. Eliza was a feisty soul. It was no wonder she had gone on to fight for women's rights.

More about F. Since his introduction, Eliza had mentioned him on nearly every page. She claimed to despise him, but wrote about him so frequently that Beth presumed Eliza was a bit blind to her feelings.

 _"More than once during my noon-time rambles in the Public Garden have I unexpectedly met F. How perverse the mischance that should bring him there! To prevent its ever happening again, I informed him that the Garden was a favorite haunt of mine, as I dearly love to watch the Swan Boats carrying their passengers.** How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! - Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like willful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with me as we returned to the school-house. He never says a great deal, nor do I give myself the trouble of talking or of listening much; but it struck me in the course of our third rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions—about my pleasure in being at the Darcy School, my love of solitary walks, and the happiness of my recently married dear friend Charlotte."_

At this point, Beth laughed out loud. F was hitting on her! She supposed that Eliza was young enough and sheltered enough not to recognize it. Beth paused for a moment. Eliza was a naïve young woman being pursued by a sophisticated man. Had this F broken Eliza's heart? Was that why she had never married?

There was a knock at the front door, and Beth rose to see who it was. Peering outside, she saw a tall man standing on the snow-covered walkway. He was a white man, and even though she knew Roxbury had gentrified a lot in the last decade or so, so it wasn't unusual anymore to see white people in this neighborhood, his stiff wool coat and old-fashioned hat made him seem extremely out of place.

Deciding that he wasn't dangerous, she took a chance and opened the door. "Yes?" she asked.

The man removed his hat, and then paced a bit on the front stairs. He was very handsome, with tousled dark curls and brown eyes. "May I come in?"

Beth was starting to regret opening the door. "No! I have no idea why you're here. What do you want?"

The man winced. "Please, Eliza," he begged. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

* * *

 **Footnotes:**

* The tension at Evergreen State College refers to a controversy that occurred earlier this year. Organizers on campus hold an annual Day of Absence, during which "people of color who chose to do so generally attend an off-campus event, while whites who chose to participate stayed on campus to attend lectures, workshops and discussions about how race and racism shape social structures and everyday life." This is followed by an annual Day of Presence, in which students and faculty reconnect in shared learning activities. "Last spring the organizers switched the two events; the _event_ for students of color was held on-campus, and the _event_ for white students was held off-campus." Even though attendance at all events was voluntary, a faculty member argued that "whites were being coerced to leave campus." This controversy made national news. (Quotes are from the Huffington Post)

** The Public Garden is an enchanting floral green space in downtown Boston. The Swan Boats, which were introduced in 1877, are pleasure boats adorned with twin swans that meander through the Public Garden's pond.


	2. Fitzwilliam

**Chapter 2: Fitzwilliam**

"What the hell?!" Beth began to close the door, but the man inserted his foot and prevented her from doing so.

"Eliza, please," he begged again, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

 _Oh no, he's some sort of psycho!_ Beth thought. What was she supposed to do now? Her phone was in the kitchen. Could she run in time to get it before he grabbed her and did whatever sick thing was on his mind? Probably not, so she started scanning the room for a weapon.

Spotting the fireplace poker, she darted over to it, and braced it in front of her body. "You have three seconds to leave this house before I bash you in the head with this!"

The man's eyes widened, and he held out his hands. "What are you doing? I know your parents aren't home and I shouldn't be here, but it's the only opportunity I have to speak to you in private."

Although her heart was racing, Beth's confusion began to overtake her fear. Was this some mentally ill dude having a hallucination? Maybe he was harmless, but maybe not. Keeping her eyes on the man and the poker at the ready, she started moving slowly backwards toward the kitchen. "I'm going to get my phone and call my sister, okay? She works at MGH and can get you some help."

"No, don't call your sister!" he said. "Please, allow me five minutes to talk to you."

Beth was now standing in the entrance to the kitchen. She could see her phone, less than four feet away, from the corner of her eye. She gripped the poker harder. "All right, then. You have five minutes. Don't come any closer to me."

He nodded, and then began to pace across the living room. Finally, he spoke. "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. I love you, Eliza, with all my heart!"

Beth's astonishment was beyond expression. Who _was_ this man, and why did he keep calling her Eliza, the very name of the great-aunt whose journal she had just been reading?

"From the day I first met you at the Darcy School..."

Beth stared. Through Eliza's journal, she had become familiar with the Darcy School, which had been established to educate black children with the support of a wealthy white family named the Darcys. Eliza had started writing in her journal on the day she began teaching there after completing Teacher's College at Daytona Educational and Industrial Training School, the HBCU* founded by Mary McCleod Bethune. This man was calling her Eliza, and referring to the Darcy school! It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Is this some sort of joke?" she asked. "Did my sisters put you up to it?" She couldn't imagine her sisters doing something like that, but how else would this man know about all this?

"Your sisters?" he repeated. "No, of course not. Eliza, I know that neither your family nor mine would approve of our union. Indeed, mine would consider it a degradation for me to marry a colored woman. I know that our races are not equal, that you are my inferior, and we would be outcasts in society if I were to attach myself to you. Yet despite all my endeavors, I have not been able to conquer my feelings for you. Please, dear Eliza, end my suffering and reward me by accepting my hand!"

Despite being stunned, Beth could sense that the man was sincere. She almost felt sorry for him, since he was sure to be hurt by her forthcoming rejection, until she remembered the insults he had just delivered and lost all her compassion. She tried, however, to compose herself to answer him with patience. It would be stupid to anger a guy who was possibly having a psychotic break.

As she looked at him, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favorable answer to his bizarre proposal. Even though he had been nervous and pacing when he arrived, now that he had gotten the words out, he seemed confident, almost cocky. It ticked her off, but she had to know something before she responded. "What's your name?"

He seemed confused at first, but then smiled. "Of course. You have only known me as Mr. Darcy, but my Christian name, which you may now call me, dear Eliza, is Fitzwilliam."

 _Fitzwilliam Darcy,_ thought Beth. _He's F, Eliza's F._ And if he was some re-enactor portraying the love of Eliza's life, it was no wonder she had remained single.

He was waiting for her response, so she took a deep breath, and tried to speak in a way that someone thinking he was living back in 1912 would understand. "In situations like this, I believe I'm supposed to say thank you for the feelings you expressed. And if I could feel gratitude, I would thank you. But I can't. I wasn't expecting your proposal, and you have certainly offered it to me unwillingly."

F looked extremely puzzled, but she continued. "I'm sorry to cause you any pain, and I hope it won't last. And since it would be a degradation for you to marry a black woman anyway, I sure you'll get over it pretty quickly."

F, who was leaning against the mantlepiece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed himself to have attained it. After some time, in a voice of forced calmness, he said, "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected!"

"I might as well ask," Beth retorted, "why with so obvious a plan to offend and insult me, you chose to tell me that you loved me despite the fact that I'm such a degradation and inferior to you? How could I _not_ respond with incivility, if that's what you want to call it?" She stopped suddenly, realizing she was speaking as herself and not as the ancestor he had so insulted. It didn't matter. The jerk needed to hear her response. "Eliza is a black woman with a college degree. Do you know how few women of _any_ color had college degrees in 1912? Do you know what our ancestors overcame? I doubt your family could have endured the same struggles and come out with their humanity and sanity intact! How _dare_ you think that you're somehow superior to us!"

As she pronounced these words F changed color. "And this," he cried, as he walked with quick steps across the room, "is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps," he added, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, "these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I concealed my struggles and flattered you instead. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your skin color? - to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?"

Beth felt herself growing angrier every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said, "You're mistaken if you think I'm just upset about _how_ you proposed. No, what you said is what's in your heart. Your racism, arrogance, and bigotry are _disgusting_ to me. With attitudes like that, you're the last man in the world I would _ever_ marry!"

Again his astonishment was obvious, as was hers, since she had once more forgotten that she wasn't actually Eliza receiving an obnoxious proposal from an arrogant white man. F looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

With that, he turned and walked out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him. Several minutes passed before Beth felt herself calm down. She double-locked the door, put the poker away, and then briefly considered calling Janet to tell her what had just happened. Then she laughed. Who would ever believe such a story? The only person who might understand what had just happened, she realized, was Eliza. And so she returned to her great-great-great Aunt's journal, hoping to uncover the mystery of Eliza and F.

* * *

 **Footnote:**

* An HBCU is a "historically black college and university," created after the Civil War and throughout the segregation era to serve African-Americans who were barred from attending most predominantly white institutions of higher learning. Daytona Educational and Industrial Training School was later renamed Bethune-Cookman College, and still exists to this day.


	3. Will

**Chapter 3: Will**

William Darcy poured himself into his current reading material on Thursday evening, hoping to finish as much as possible by the following day so that he could leave early for the Mass General Hospital benefit dinner. Although he was generally loath to attend any public functions, let alone a black-tie event, this one was important. Not because he was an MGH donor, although he was, albeit anonymously. No, stepping outside his comfort zone for one night was something he owed to two of the most important people in his life—his mother, and his best friend Chase. MGH had provided excellent care for his mother during the days when her health was rapidly declining, and Chase had been there for him in so many ways over the last near decade, including helping him re-acclimate to life in the States over the last six months, after living for six years in Europe.

He thought about how Chase and he had become friends. Both 1L's at Harvard Law School nine years earlier, they knew each other somewhat from common courses. But their friendship began with Will making a fool of himself, back when he was still known as William Wickham. He was making a very awkward, drunken pass at a woman at a party, and failing miserably. Chase had observed the woman looking disgusted as she walked away, and laughed at him.

"What are you laughing at?!" he had grumbled.

"Sorry, man," Chase chuckled. "It's just that you're a rich, good-looking white boy. Women should be falling all over you. How'd you manage to blow that one?"

"Because life sucks, that's why!" Will stared down at his beer, wanting another one, but doubting he could even stand up to get it.

"What could possibly be wrong with your life?"

"Like why the hell I'm even at law school, for one thing."

"To get rich. Or to stay rich. That's what most of us are here for, right?"

"I was supposed to be here learning how to 'protect my old man's business interests.'" Will made finger quotes. "Keep the bastard out of jail is what he really meant. Well, it's too late for that."

Chase looked at him curiously. "Your dad's going to jail?"

Will nodded miserably. "Probably. He was arrested this morning. I hope he dies there, and then rots in hell."

"Wow," Chase said softly. "Of all the things you could have said, I definitely didn't expect that. But I can relate. My dad's locked up, too."

And so began a friendship between two young men at the crossroads, trying to figure out how to make different life choices than the men that sired them. Of course, there were many key differences between them. Chase's dad had made the poor choice to buy and sell drugs because he had few other opportunities. Will's dad, on the other hand, had had every advantage, and still chose to waste it by defrauding people of their life savings with Ponzi scheme securities.

Chase's mother was also a much stronger woman than Will's had been, working hard to keep her kids on the straight and narrow, and eventually sending them to the best colleges in America. Will's mother, however, had drowned out her shame at the family scandal in alcohol and prescription drugs, until it destroyed her health and killed her. Chase had stayed loyal to him through it all, even as their Harvard classmates began to shun him when it became known that he was the son of the fraudster George Wickham.

Without Chase, he didn't know how he would have made it, but poor Gia wasn't so lucky. His sister was in middle school when their dad was arrested, and her classmates treated her brutally, especially because some of their family members had been George Wickham's victims. His heart broke for her, because he couldn't do anything about it. His father's money, what little he had left after paying the lawyers, went to make restitution to the victims. His mother was in and out of the hospital, and he was trying his best to finish school so he could make some kind of life for them.

He turned 25 two weeks before his law school graduation, and knew it was time to make a change. He had come into his trust inheritance from his mother's side of the family, the Darcy's, on his birthday. He arranged to have his mother revert to her maiden name, and changed his own and his sister's last names to the same, updated their passports, and moved his family to Europe. This would give Gia a chance to start over in a place where she was unknown, with a new name that might protect her from nosy kids on social media. And maybe it would lift his mother's spirits to be away from the terrible publicity. For Gia it had helped; for his mother, who died a few months after they left the U.S., it did not.

He obtained his law license in Brussels, and began working in international contract law. He worked just enough to sustain their lifestyle, but spent much of his time learning about and donating anonymously to charities, to somehow make up for the terrible things his father had done. He laid low during his time in Europe, dating sparsely and socializing little. Chase remained his closest friend, keeping in touch with him during the six years he was overseas, even though he had missed the most important events of Chase's life, his wedding and the birth of his now three-year-old triplets.

Given all this, the least Will could do was support the gala for the hospital where Chase's wife worked.

Blind dates were one thing he hated even more than public, black-tie affairs, but in this case, he was open to the idea. Chase's wife Janet was a sweetheart and a real babe. If her sister was anything like her, he would enjoy meeting her. And a date would at least keep him from having to mingle too much with the other guests, some of whom might recognize him as his father's son.

Chase even told him that they might find some interesting things to talk about. "She's a professor of African-American history. Tell her about your project. She might have some insights."

One of the things Will had inherited from his maternal grandfather, besides his trust, was a piece of property, a building on Joy Street in downtown Boston. When he left for Europe, he placed a property manager in charge of leasing the place. When he returned, he set up a law office in a small suite in the building. Chase had offered to help him get in the door at his firm, but Will still wanted to keep a low profile. After passing the Massachusetts Bar, he maintained a caseload of wills, trusts, and a few of his old international contract clients, but mostly, he did as he had in Belgium—learned about the needs in the community and tried to support them without fanfare.

After Will had settled in, the property manager told him about some archived documents stored in the basement. Curious, Will had had the boxes brought up to his office, and what he had learned when he started perusing through them amazed him.

Will had long known that Beacon Hill, in the shadow of the golden dome of the Massachusetts State House, had been home for centuries to many of the wealthiest Bostonians. What he hadn't known was that the neighborhood had once had a large African-American population, composed of those who were servants to the rich and well-connected. A short distance from his building was the African Meeting House, the oldest black church in America, and now the home of Boston's Museum of African American History. And his very building had once been the Darcy School, an early educational institution for black children.

When Gia finished university earlier this year, she had encouraged him to return to the U.S. "You're done taking care of me," she told him. "Go live your own life." He had considered returning to someplace new, maybe on the West Coast, but Gia insisted he go back to Boston. "I don't know, I just feel like you're meant to be there," she said. "Maybe to make peace with our past."

When he learned about the Darcy School, he began to believe Gia was right. Maybe this was what he had been searching for over the last decade—proof that his family, on one side at least, wasn't evil, that they had made some good contributions to the world.

He had consulted with the museum, which had begun a project to uncover the story of the school and the many students who had passed through its doors during its sixty-year history. He had donated most of the archives to them, but two weeks ago, the curator had returned a few more personal documents related specifically to his family.

Among them was a journal written by his great-great grandfather, Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had served for a time as headmaster of the school. This was the book that had absorbed so much of his attention recently, and by turns had intrigued him and disturbed him. After reading one passage, he remarked to the air in his best Darth Vader voice, _"The condescension is strong with this one."_ Fitz, as he had taken to calling his ancestor, had written,

" _The Negro children look to us for guidance, for their minds are weak and unable to learn with the quickness of the white race. It is my honor to provide an example for them to aspire to, for although they will never reach my heights of intelligence, they will surpass the many ignorant among their own people."_

Mockery aside, this passage and others like it had shocked him, and he had almost stopped reading. When he told Chase, his friend had laughed. "You didn't really expect white folks at the turn of the 20th century to be enlightened, did you?"

"No, but man! I didn't expect my ancestor to be so…"

"Racist?" Chase supplied. "Ignorant?" He shrugged. "Welcome to America, my friend."

Will had swallowed his discouragement and kept reading, because the journal was so fascinating. He had come to a section from the time in Fitz's life when he first fell in love. Her name was Eliza, and she was a teacher at the school.

" _Each day I arrive at school with great elation, for I will have the chance to see my darling Eliza. At first, I noticed little of her, other than that the children loved her. But soon I found that her face was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. I have begun to make excuses to visit her classroom every day, silently watching to observe her performance as a new teacher, but in truth, I am there to inhale her beauty and etch it into my heart."_

 _Fitz, you dirty dog!_ Will grinned. At this point, he couldn't put the book down, because he wanted to know what had happened to Eliza. He knew Fitz hadn't married her. Will's great-great grandmother Sarah was a member of the Lowell family, of the ditty, _"And this is good old Boston / The home of the bean and the cod / Where the Lowells talk only to Cabots / and the Cabots talk only to God."_

He didn't know much about Eliza yet, but he knew that Fitz had loved her dearly. Had she lacked the pedigree of the Lowell family? Had Fitz's family forbidden him from marrying her? He knew he really should go home for the evening, get some dinner, but not yet. Fitz and his great love Eliza were just too captivating.

He heard the front door of his office suite open, and looked up to see a young black woman enter. His initial impression, based on the long dark dress she wore, was that she was one of the homeless people from the nearby Boston Common who had wandered into the building.

"May I help you?" he asked.

As the woman drew nearer and removed the hood from her cape, he knew that his first impression was wrong. Although she was unadorned by jewelry or makeup and wore her hair pulled back in a severe bun, she was stunningly beautiful, and far too healthy looking to be homeless. His second thought was that she was a re-enactor for an event at the African-American Museum, since he could now see that she was dressed in period clothing.

"Mr. Darcy?" she said. "I was hoping to find you here tonight. If I may have a few moments of your time, I'd like to talk to you."

* * *

 **Author's note:** My thoughts and prayers go out to those injured or killed today in the train derailment in Washington, about 20 minutes from the Evergreen State campus.


	4. Eliza

**Chapter 4: Eliza  
**

"Please have a seat," Will offered, and the woman took it.

She seemed hesitant to speak, and Will wondered, despite his first _and_ second impressions, whether she was there for legal advice. Hesitance wasn't uncommon for people with legal issues, so he waited.

Finally, she said, "I hear that congratulations are in order."

"For what?"

"For your recent nuptials." At his confused look, she added, "I exchange letters with a few of the teachers, Lucy and Annabelle. They informed me." She smiled. "Miss Sarah Lowell is a lucky woman."

She was congratulating him on his marriage to Sarah Lowell… his great-great grandmother. What in the world was going on?

A thought occurred to him. "Is this a re-creation for the school? Did Shayla send you?"

"I beg your pardon?" the woman said, now looking confused herself.

"Shayla Thompson. You know, the curator at the African-American Museum?" She still looked puzzled, and he added, "I know she's creating an exhibit about the Darcy School. Is this part of it?"

She furrowed her brow. "I'm afraid I am unacquainted with a Miss Thompson, and as I haven't worked at the school in some time, I am unaware of the exhibit."

Okay, she wasn't going to break character, so he could play along. He just wished Shayla had told him about it ahead of time. "So, how can I help you tonight, Miss…? I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

At this she laughed, a beautiful laugh that made her eyes sparkle. "It's only been two years. I don't believe I have aged significantly in that time. I would think that after your atrocious proposal, you would certainly remember me."

Now he was extremely confused, even more so when he saw the hurt look that crossed her face at his lack of recognition.

His heart started beating faster. "Are you… Eliza?"

She smiled softly and nodded. Will exhaled slowly, a bit blown away. It hadn't occurred to him that Eliza had been African-American. If Shayla's research was accurate, that meant that Fitz had proposed to Eliza. In 1912, his great-great grandfather had fallen in love with and proposed to a black woman. Their families, society, everything would have been against them. He was beginning to understand why they had never married.

"You said my proposal was… atrocious?" Remembering some of the horribly bigoted attitudes Fitz had expressed in his journal, Will really hoped he hadn't carried them over into what should have been the ultimate expression of love to a woman.

She laughed again, that beautiful laugh. "I do understand now, and forgive you. Although I can never accept your belief that I am inferior because of my skin color, you were right that our families would have opposed our union. Your manner of expression merely prevented the pain we would have caused them had I accepted."

She arched her eyebrows playfully. "I do hope you performed much better when you asked for Miss Lowell's hand."

"You would have accepted?" Why had he asked that? And why was his heart longing to hear her say yes? This was merely a role he was playing, and she was an actress. Yet her beauty, her playful manner, the sweetness and kindness he could sense in her, were utterly enchanting. If the real Eliza had been anything like this, it was no wonder Fitz had lost his heart to her.

She pursed her lips, as if to hold back more laughter. "Now, Mr. Darcy, that is not a question a recently married man should ask another woman."

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," he said suddenly. Again, he didn't know why he had spoken those words, or why he was taking this role-play so seriously. Yet he sensed pain beneath the woman's smile, and knew that he—or did he mean Fitz?—had caused it.

She nodded gently, graciously acknowledging his apology. "You should know that you did me a great service."

"I did?"

"Indeed. I admit that I didn't return to the school because I was a bit mortified to face you again after my harsh words to you. Instead, I wrote to my cousin in New York City, and asked if I could go to live with her."

"So you moved to New York," Will said, hoping she would keep talking and answer his burning questions about Eliza's fate.

"Yes, and it was the most wonderful thing I could have done. I had long thought my purpose was to teach, and I do still dearly love children. However, my cousin is actively involved with the suffragettes, and she drew me in. Are you aware of them and their cause?"

"Yes, they're the women fighting for the right to vote."

"Suffrage, Mr. Darcy, is a cause I have found far more important than even filling young minds with knowledge. For if those young minds are female, their opportunities to use their wisdom and learning are limited. I hope to change that."

"You will, and in a short time, I imagine." Two years after 1912… this conversation, if it had happened, would have taken place in 1914, just six years prior to the ratification of the 19th Amendment giving women the right to vote.

She smiled. "I thank you for your faith in our cause, and I thank you for setting me on that path." She stood up. "I must be going, but it was a true pleasure to see you again. I wish you and Mrs. Darcy every happiness."

She gracefully swept out of the room before he could react, and suddenly he knew he had to see more of her. He jumped up from his chair and raced into the hallway, hoping to catch up to her and invite her to dinner so he could get to know the real woman apart from the character she had just played. He didn't see her anywhere, nor did he hear her footsteps on the stairs. He looked over at the elevator. No buttons were lit, indicating that she hadn't taken the elevator. How had she disappeared so fast?

After a few minutes, he returned to his office and sat at his desk, wondering why he felt so utterly bereft, more so than at any time since his dad was imprisoned and his mother died. He thought about calling Shayla the next day to ask about the woman who had visited, but something told him that the museum curator might not have the answers he sought. He glanced over at Fitz's journal and reached for it again, hoping to learn more about the incomparable Eliza.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Thank you to everyone who is reading! I am especially thrilled to hear that some who don't usually like moderns are enjoying my story.


	5. Together

**Chapter 5: Together**

"You look _phenomenal!_ " Janet told Beth as she descended the stairs of her sister's home.

Beth had to admit that she looked pretty good. As far as dressing up, she had only brought a little black dress with her from Washington, in case she connected with some of her high school friends and they invited her to go out dancing. Janet had told her that simply wouldn't do for a formal event, and insisted she come over early enough to try on some of Janet's full-length gowns. Beth had selected a form-fitting burgundy halter dress, and borrowed a pair of Janet's stiletto heels. Even that wasn't enough to convince her sister that, as Janet made her repeat to much laughter by both sisters: "I am no longer a graduate student. I am a grown, professional woman." No, to satisfy Janet, Beth had to get completely made up and wear a pair of her sister's gold and pearl teardrop earrings and matching necklace.

Chase shared his wife's praise. "I'm going to have to scrape Will off the ground when he sees you."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Chase, please. I'm going to go and be nice to your friend, but don't make a big deal out of it. Remember that I'm going back to Olympia in two weeks."

Chase laughed and promised to be chill about the evening. After hugging and kissing the couple's triplets, the three adults loaded into Chase's BMW and drove to the Sheraton at Copley Place. Shortly after leaving their coats with the coat check, Chase approached a tall man with dark hair whose back was to them. The two men embraced, and then turned to walk back toward Janet and Beth.

Beth's mouth dropped. The crazy man, the one claiming to be Eliza's F, was walking toward her!

The man came to an abrupt halt and stared at her. Then he smiled, as if he were happy to see her even after their blowup the previous day, which really freaked her out. _This was Chase's friend?!_

Will barely noticed Janet giving him a kiss on the cheek and telling him it was good to see him. All he saw before him was the woman who had portrayed Eliza. She had been beautiful the previous evening; tonight, she was exquisite. "It's you," he breathed, unable to contain his joy.

Beth glared at him in response. "It's you!" she replied in a voice that was decidedly less happy.

A baffled Chase looked back and forth between the two. "Do you already know each other?'

"No!" "Yes!" They spoke in unison, the No coming from Beth.

They spoke simultaneously again. "Okay, maybe." "Kind of."

Janet took her husband's arm. "Baby, do you think we should get something to drink and let them get acquainted? Or re-acquainted, or whatever?"

Chase made a funny face, indicating that he was extremely curious about whatever was going on, but nodded and let his wife lead him away.

Although Beth was tempted to beg her sister and brother-in-law not to leave her alone with this guy, she had never been one to back down from a challenge. As soon as she watched them enter the ballroom where the gala was taking place, she turned to the man with her fiercest expression. "What the hell were you doing at my parent's house yesterday?"

"I wasn't at your parent's house. You came to my office last night!"

Beth folded her arms across her chest. "Really? You're just going to deny it?"

As much as he wanted to get to know this woman, he was starting to wonder what kind of game she was playing. "Yes, I categorically deny it! I was at my office all day yesterday, I have no idea where your parents live, and I'd never seen you before in my life until you came to my office last night pretending to be Eliza!"

Beth stared at him. He knew who Eliza was. It had to be him! "What kind of joke is this? You came to my house yesterday, pretending to be the man who loved Eliza, and proceeded to spew a bunch of racist garbage!"

"Why would I do something like that? First of all, I would never, _ever_ spew racist garbage! And it _had_ to be you at my office last night. Your face is unforgettable, and how else would you know who Eliza is?"

"How do _you_ know who Eliza is? Did Janet tell you, and you decided to play some sick joke?"

Will stopped responding, feeling much more hurt than angry. He didn't understand what was going on, and being accused by a woman he found so attractive was painful. One thing he knew, he didn't want to argue with her anymore.

When he finally felt calm enough to speak again, he answered softly, "I read about Eliza in my great-great grandfather's journal."

His words seemed to arrest her anger. "What's his name?" she asked.

"My great-great grandfather? Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"Oh my God," she said. She chewed her lip, like she was mulling it over. She seemed as confused and troubled as he was, making him regret that he had doubted her.

"Hey, can we start over? We haven't even been properly introduced." He held out his hand. "I'm Will Darcy. I was born and raised in the Boston area, but I lived in Belgium for the last six years before moving back home six months ago. I've known Chase since our first year in law school, and he can vouch for my honesty."

Beth hesitated. Should she trust this guy? She considered the fact that Chase trusted him, and decided that it at least merited giving him a chance. She exhaled, and slowly reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Beth Bennet. Also born and raised in Boston, but I now live in Washington State. And although they'd probably tell you that I'm a smart mouth _extraordinaire,_ Janet and Chase would vouch for my honesty, too."

He smiled. "Nice to meet you, Beth. I mean that. Chase and Janet have told me a lot of great things about you."

Beth ignored his flattery. "It seems like we both had a weird experience yesterday. Maybe we can talk about it, and try to figure out what's going on."

He nodded and asked if she wanted to go first.

"Sure," Beth said. She told him about finding Eliza's journal, learning about a man Eliza called F, and then the arrival of her strange visitor "who looked exactly like you, and called himself by the same name as your great-great-grandfather, which coincidentally starts with an F."

"It wasn't me," Will reiterated.

"So you say. For now, I'll take your word for it. Anyway, he claimed to be there to propose to Eliza, who he thought was me. I can't even begin to describe how awful his proposal was."

Will groaned and covered his eyes. "Was it…. _atrocious?"_

Beth laughed, and Will's heart jumped. She laughed just like the woman calling herself Eliza.

"Atrocious is a good word for it. Sounds like you know something about it."

"That's how the woman who called herself Eliza described it. She thought I was him."

"Was she as pissed off as I was? I went off on him, and he stormed out of the house, thank God."

"Not anymore. A couple of years had passed since he made the proposal, and she said she had forgiven him." He chuckled. "She probably went off on him when it first happened, though. She said her words were harsh."

Beth blew out her breath. "Okay, this is more and more bizarre. Tell me more about this Eliza."

"She was beautiful and charming. She looked and sounded just like you."

"It _wasn't_ me!"

Will grinned. "So you say. For now I'll take your word for it."

She smirked. "Nice comeback. So do we have a pair of doppelgängers going around re-enacting our distant ancestors?"

"That's unlikely."

"What else could it be?"

"Time travel?" he suggested.

Beth rolled her eyes.

"Hey, come on! The whole thing is weird, so the explanation probably is, too!"

"All right, I'll bite. If it was time travel, how? There are no DeLorean time machines around."

"You said you were reading Eliza's journal just before it happened. Well, I was reading Fitz's. Maybe the journals are some sort of portal between eras, and they came through it."

Beth nodded. "Okay, that's a possibility. Or maybe they were ghostly apparitions."

Will shook his head. "No, Eliza was too real."

"How do you know? Did you touch her?"

"No, but…"

"No, you're right. F pushed his way into my front door. I don't think a ghost could do that."

"He did _what?_ Did you call the police?"

"My phone was in the kitchen. And I'm not eager to call the cops anyway. I grabbed a poker and was prepared to use it if I had to. Why are you laughing?"

"Because here I am feeling protective of you from someone who was basically _me_. And then I learn that you were ready to stab me with a poker."

"I thought you said it wasn't you."

"But it kind of is me. Just like Eliza is kind of you."

"What, we're like their reincarnations? This is getting too deep for me."

"Or maybe we met our doubles from an alternate universe."

"Like when your counterpart from another universe comes through a breach!" Beth said excitedly. They were both laughing now, which seemed to be the most appropriate response to their shared, improbable encounters.

"Or maybe they're from the Upside Down. Nah, that's too creepy."

"Actually, F was kind of creepy. He was a—"

"Big honkin' racist," Will said grimly. "I know. It's amazing that he fell in love with Eliza."

"Go to any black family reunion and you'll see people of every color and shade. How do you think that happened? Racism doesn't stop sexual attraction."

"It's still mind-blowing that he proposed to her."

"But he screwed up big-time by letting his racist freak fly. The sad thing is, he probably didn't even realize it. He probably thought he was doing her a big favor by asking for her hand." Beth shook her head. "Anyway, I think her rejection was for the best. Life would have been very hard for them if they had tried to marry in that society, and Eliza certainly wouldn't have put up with someone who didn't see her as his equal."

Will nodded, feeling a little heart-broken for their star-crossed ancestors. "Beth, why do you think we received these visitations? There has to be a reason."

"Perhaps I'm supposed to tell their story," Beth suggested. "I am a historian, after all."

Will had a different idea. "Or maybe it's because you and I were meant to meet each other." _And more?_ he hoped.

She raised her eyebrows—just like Eliza had!—and smiled, so he presumed that she wasn't completely opposed to that idea.

"Glad to see you two getting along." Chase's voice startled them both, and made them wonder if he had overheard any of their conversation.

"What are you talking about?" Janet asked.

"Nothing. We're just geeking out on sci-fi stuff," Beth said quickly.

"Well, you pair of geeks, they're about to serve dinner. Come join us."

Will and Beth glanced at each other, silently communicating. "I'm not very hungry," he said. He actually was, but he wasn't ready to end his conversation with Beth.

"Neither am I," Beth added.

"Oh come on, you have to eat!"

"Chase." Will looked at his friend sternly. "Go. Away."

Janet smirked. "Baby, they're trying to get rid of us." Beth was now making "shoo!" gestures at them.

"You get that sense, too? What should we do?"

Janet started laughing. "I think we should give them some space."

Chase gave an exaggerated sigh. "I guess we have no choice. Y'all be good now." He held out his arm to his wife, and they walked away.

Will and Beth both laughed as they watched them go. "If we do miss dinner, maybe we can grab something later."

Will nodded. "I'd like that. Hey, do you want to go up to the top of the Pru? I haven't been there in years."

"Neither have I. Let's go!"

Prudential Tower, the second tallest building in Boston, was adjacent to the Sheraton. Its top floor Skywalk Observatory provided a 360-degree view of Greater Boston. They rode the elevator up and purchased tickets, even though the security guard informed them that only a half hour remained before the Observatory's 8 PM closing.

They walked around, looking at different parts of the city through mounted binoculars stationed every few feet. Will pointed out the location of the Darcy School and his office building.

"Wow!" Beth said. "You're right by the African Meeting House. My parents took us to functions there all the time when we were kids. Where do you live?"

"Right here in Back Bay, off Dartmouth Street."

"Did you walk?"

"Actually, I took a Lyft. It's a little too cold tonight."

"You don't have a car?"

He shook his head. "I haven't had one since I moved to Europe. I got used to biking and car sharing there. When the weather's good, I bike here in Boston, too. It's a lot easier than trying to deal with traffic and parking."

Beth grinned. "Me, too! I bike all over Olympia."

"So…" he said slowly, "the next time you're in Boston, or if I happen to visit Olympia, and the weather is nice, maybe we can go for a bike ride together?"

She glanced at him with a smile. "Are you asking me out, Will?"

He smiled back. "Yes, yes, I am. What do you think about that?"

Beth breathed in, wondering how in about half an hour she had gone from thinking Will was either crazy or a sick prankster, to dying to go out with him. _It's the tux,_ she thought. _He looks so good in that tux!_ But she knew it was more than that. It was his warmth, his sense of humor, the fact that he seemed to be as quirky as she was, and their shared connection to Eliza and Fitz. Somehow, it created a bond that made it seem as if she had known Will forever.

She hadn't answered him yet, so she assured him, "I would love to." Will's smile broadened, and he took her hand, interlacing their fingers together.

"It seems like you like sci-fi as much as I do. Have you seen the new Star Wars movie yet?" she asked.

"I haven't."

"Do you want to go this weekend?"

"Are you asking _me_ out?" he grinned.

"Yes, yes, I am. Especially because good weather in Olympia or Boston is a long way off, and I want to see you again a lot sooner than that."

He looked at her with a tender expression. "So do I."

They walked around a bit more, and he asked her to show him her family's home. She pointed out the steeple of the First Church of Roxbury. "We're a few blocks away. We're planning to sell it, which is why I've been cleaning it out. It's going to be very sad to give up our childhood home. What about you? Where's your childhood home?"

"Weston, but we sold it a long time ago." He exhaled, thinking about how they'd had to sell it to pay legal bills, and knew he needed to tell her something he'd never discussed with any woman he had dated over the last nine years. But Beth was special, and he couldn't withhold his heart from her. He had to know upfront that she wouldn't withhold hers from him. "Listen, before we go out again, you should know that my dad's a felon. He's serving 25 years in a federal penitentiary."

It didn't seem to faze Beth. "So?" she said.

"In case you want to change your mind."

"Why would I? You're not your dad."

"He's a notorious criminal."

"Is he a serial killer?"

"No. A conman. But he hurt a lot of people. I've been trying to make up for it, but I don't know if I ever can."

"Why do you feel like it's your job to make up for your father's wrongs?"

"It has weighed on me for the last nine years. I feel like I have to, or else…"

"Or else what? Do you think you'll become like him?"

Will shrugged.

Beth turned to face him, taking both his hands into her own. "Will, I know we just met tonight, but I feel as if I've known you forever. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense. I feel the same way."

"Because of that connection, I _know_ what a good man you are. You're special and caring, and I'm thrilled to see what our future holds. But it sounds like you've spent the last nine years not really living, all because of your dad. And I think you should stop. You deserve a full, wonderful, amazing life."

Will's heart swelled as Beth slipped her arms around his waist. He held her tightly, realizing that she was right, and that for the first time in years, he wanted to be fully alive—with her.

"Five minutes until closing," the security guard warned. Other people strolling along the Observatory began to walk toward the elevators.

Beth started to pull away. "I guess we should head back."

"Beth, wait," Will said. He took her face in his hands, and she drew closer. They shared their first kiss, and Will wouldn't have ended it until the security guard kicked them out, except that he spotted something.

"What are you looking at?" Beth asked, and then turned her head and gasped.

"You see them, too," he whispered.

"Yes," she said. Fitz and Eliza, wearing the clothing they had worn during their visits, were standing on the opposite side of the deck and looking at them with warm smiles. Only now they were fainter, more ghostly. Neither she nor Will wanted to move, afraid that the images would disappear.

"We still haven't figured out how they're doing this," Beth said.

"We have time. I'm sure this is a topic you and I will discuss for years to come."

"She did love him, you know. She didn't realize it until after his proposal. Although she couldn't accept that he didn't see her as his equal, she finally had to admit to herself how much she cared for him."

Will nodded, warmed by the realization. "She changed him. He took her words to heart, and started changing how he viewed and treated the teachers and students at the school, and other African-Americans he encountered."

"I'm glad to hear that," Beth said. "He changed her, too. She became a suffragette because of him."

Will smiled. "I know."

"Okay, time to go," the security guard announced.

Will finally released Beth, and hand-in-hand, they started walking to the elevators. They looked back once more at Fitz and Eliza, whose images were slowly vanishing. Just before they disappeared, Fitz waved, and Eliza blew them a kiss.

They had given Will and Beth their blessings.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Author's note:** This short story is in memory of the women who fought for women's right to vote, including the African-American suffragettes, many of whose stories have never been told. This story was also a love letter to the city of Boston, which was my home for 20 years.

I enjoyed writing this story so much, I wrote a sequel/companion piece, _Christmas Eve Across the Ages._ It can be found by clicking my user name.


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